I remember when

[Martyn Smith]

I was surprised to find out that there was even a games option requirement when I went up to Vesey 6th (wadda mistake-a to make-a) although voluntary service and table tennis were options. Cricket for summer term. The important thing was that I didn't have to do rugby or cross country

[Godfrey Brian]

Frequent mentions of public transport in John's entertaining article which got me reminiscing about the night service buses back in the day. Tumbling out of whichever club at ten to the hour, grabbing a pie at the pie van at Snow Hill and then onto one of the night buses, which all left on the hour, and into a bizarre smokey world of drunks, clubbers,  nightworkers and ,usually, happy people. Some of my most entertaining conversations have taken place with complete strangers on those buses. You'd often see the same people on the morning bus heading for work and share a knowing smile.

[pauliewalnuts]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

[pauliewalnuts]

I was surprised to find out that there was even a games option requirement when I went up to Vesey 6th (wadda mistake-a to make-a) although voluntary service and table tennis were options. Cricket for summer term. The important thing was that I didn't have to do rugby or cross country

I went to posh school, we were forced to do cross country and rugby, I hated both.

On a friday afternoon, we also had CCF (combined cadet force) which meant joining either the army or navy cadets and going to school dressed like a fucking sailor in flares or only slightly less embarassing, like a soldier.

The alternative was to opt out and do 'community service'. Me and a mate took that route - not being funny, I'm not dressing like a sailor for anyone - and got sent to help out in a rough-as-nails primary school in Lee Bank. The kids, despite them being about 10 and us 15, were fucking terrifying.

We'd walk to the school through the estate, past the rough as fuck tower blocks, absolutely shitting ourselves. In full school uniform, I've never felt so out of place in my home town in my life.

[dave shelley]

The tribulations of cross country running in games.  Being of the lardarse persuasion they were particulaly torturous for the likes of me and my ilk.  Many were the times when the course we had to run took in a good section of roadway.  It was this section of the run that saw a plethora of fat fuckers all piled on to the back of an unsuspecting milkman's float.

It was an annual thing in my school that the boys of each year, first, second, etc were all sent out to run this cross country event and the finish in the playground would be lined with all the girls of said year along with the crippled and insane and they would be taking the unmerciful piss out of all the fat 'uns that were coming in blowing out of their arses almost to the point of coronary arrest.  My claim to fame is that for the four years I attended that school I managed to come up with a perfect excuse not to take part. 

[Percy McCarthy]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

[Percy McCarthy]

I was surprised to find out that there was even a games option requirement when I went up to Vesey 6th (wadda mistake-a to make-a) although voluntary service and table tennis were options. Cricket for summer term. The important thing was that I didn't have to do rugby or cross country

I went to posh school, we were forced to do cross country and rugby, I hated both.

On a friday afternoon, we also had CCF (combined cadet force) which meant joining either the army or navy cadets and going to school dressed like a fucking sailor in flares or only slightly less embarassing, like a soldier.

The alternative was to opt out and do 'community service'. Me and a mate took that route - not being funny, I'm not dressing like a sailor for anyone - and got sent to help out in a rough-as-nails primary school in Lee Bank. The kids, despite them being about 10 and us 15, were fucking terrifying.

We'd walk to the school through the estate, past the rough as fuck tower blocks, absolutely shitting ourselves. In full school uniform, I've never felt so out of place in my home town in my life.

Haha, brilliant.

Reminds me of when we used to wag it and go shoplifting in places like Leamington or Warwick. But, like, the other way round.

[manic-road]

There was a snooker hall above every branch of Burton‘s Tailors

Does anybody know the story to this one?

There's probably an urban myth, but the truth is that the halls subsidised the running costs of the shops and the players would get their clothes from there.

I certainly played snooker above the Burton's in Sutton when I was a teenager. This was back in the 1980s.

Rileys wasn't it? A few hundred yards up the road from my old school.

[Risso]

The tribulations of cross country running in games.  Being of the lardarse persuasion they were particulaly torturous for the likes of me and my ilk.  Many were the times when the course we had to run took in a good section of roadway.  It was this section of the run that saw a plethora of fat fuckers all piled on to the back of an unsuspecting milkman's float.

It was an annual thing in my school that the boys of each year, first, second, etc were all sent out to run this cross country event and the finish in the playground would be lined with all the girls of said year along with the crippled and insane and they would be taking the unmerciful piss out of all the fat 'uns that were coming in blowing out of their arses almost to the point of coronary arrest.  My claim to fame is that for the four years I attended that school I managed to come up with a perfect excuse not to take part. 

I bloody hated cross country, I was always last in the year, apart from the really fat lad Stewart who used to throw up after about 50 yards then be excused the rest of the run. At the end of the 4th year I spent the summer holidays getting fit and running or cycling everywhere. Then when it came to the inter form cross-country that autumns, I'd never felt so confident. I was going to stride out like an olympian and really impress the teachers, the people in my year and most importantly, Andrea Green whose affections I yearned for. Anyway the starter klaxon went, and off I sprinted. Only to pull a muscle in my calf, and hobble home last. Arse.

[Archbishop Herbert Cockthrottle]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

Was there a poster and badge shop up there as well?

[Rudy Can't Fail]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

Summit Records?

[Andy_Lochhead_in_the_air]

Saturday mornings...Either going to the Pavillion bowling alley on the corner of Gravelly Lane/Chester Road and playing the flipper machines OR into town and going to the old Virgin records top end of Corporation Street just past Harry Parkes.

Saturday afternoon. The underneath of the old Witton Lane stand was quite cramped with a low ceiling, this really exacerbated the combined smell of bovril and nicotine at half time. An old bloke appearing through the smoke with his arm in the air "Get your Villa bingo tickets !".
Making sure your programme had the football league review in it.
Walking across the old Serpentine car park, taking massive detours around giant muddy puddles. (Peppa pig hadn't even been born then).
Regarding car travel to away games. Putting those thin silk Villa scarves out the window, wrecked in no time !
By the way there was nothing wrong with school cross country running. (This was at Wilmott with the legendary Scots lunatic Doc Campbell, in charge of cross country and a science master who managed to poison himself by drinking his tea from a chemistry beaker).

[Percy McCarthy]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

Summit Records?

Either that or Don Christie, can’t remember.

[Rudy Can't Fail]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

Summit Records?

Either that or Don Christie, can’t remember.

Don Christies was stuck alongside the Rag market. Are you sure you're a Brummie?

[Percy McCarthy]

The bit of the bull ring outside by where Mark One was later on, a two floor shop block, one of which was a doughnut shop where you'd watch the doughnuts come off the end of the conveyor belt into a tray of sugar.

You could smell the doughnuts for a radius of about a mile.

I also recall there was a mucky sexy shop on that row of shops, too.

Plus a reggae record shop, and a cafe with Space Invaders on the glass tables.

Summit Records?

Either that or Don Christie, can’t remember.

Don Christies was stuck alongside the Rag market. Are you sure you're a Brummie?

Did you know the name of it then?

*Re-reads post* No, you didn’t.